


Transfigurations

by sunstrain (uhright)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhright/pseuds/sunstrain
Summary: After learning of a way to create cross-species children, Cyberlife invites one hundred of Detroit's android lovers to become the first testers. Given your relationship to a certain android, you jump at the opportunity.What Connor doesn't know won't hurt him... right?





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I already have a series in the works but... dad!Connor was calling me and I couldn't say no :')

**July 19, 2040**

-

“Mr. Kamski will see you now.”

You suck in a deep breath, proposal tucked neatly under your arm, and step into his new office after a renewal of the CEO of Cyberlife.

He looks up from his computer screen, offering you a mild smile as he stands and reaches out to shake your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet the woman who turned Detroit’s first android detective deviant.”

“It was a team effort,” you cordially reply, lowering into the seat Chloe motions you over to.

“So, what can I do for you today?”

With a readying breath, you slide the folder across the desk and wait, an awkward pause stagnating inside the room as he reads the signed-off document with a furrowed brow and an attentive look in his eyes.

“I heard about the experiment your scientists are doing, and I want to participate.”

“Interesting,” he finally comments, looks up at you with a curious stare. “Does Connor know about this?”

“No! No. And I don’t _want_ him to until things are more… set in stone, I guess.”

“Understandable.” He nods. “I trust that you know how difficult this will be.”

“I kind of expected that when I met with your lead scientist.”

“Well,” he plucks a pen out of the cup sitting on the corner of his desk and signs his name at the bottom of the page, “Congratulations on completing the first step. Someone will contact you when we’re ready to start the process.”

* * *

**July 22, 2040**

-

A few days later, Connor takes you to the park to soak up the summer sun. You sit on a bench and people watch: his favorite activity.

A woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair, commenting on how beautiful the flowers bloom this time of year.

Two teens locked in a warm embrace, stealing pecks on the cheek and secrets meant for only their ears.

A father, mother, and two children participate in a picnic on a patch of grass nearby, and Connor rests a hand on your knee as he looks on with wide, curious eyes.

It takes everything in your power to not inform him of the experiment you’re soon due to participate in. A way for cross-race partners to have children. Dr. Sarrow informed you of the process a few weeks ago, the creation of DNA from scratch to match that of your android companion then inserted into artificial sperm (or an egg, in a female android’s case). From there, the process branches out according to the parts belonging to the android and human. A lot of scientific jargon that you don’t really understand. But you trust the scientists.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Connor ponders, gaze far away, lost in thought.

“Like what?”

The hand he rests on your knee moves to slip his fingers between yours, grip tight in a seek of assurance. “Congress passed a bill on February 14 that allows androids to legally marry.”

“How fitting that it fell on Valentine's Day,” you muse, mirroring his affectionate smile.

“But have you ever thought about marriage? Or children?”

You rest your head on his shoulder and watch the families all around you, heart clenching in gnawing want. “Of course. I want both of those things.”

His shoulder stiffens under your cheek, and you raise your head to survey the look of defeat on his face.

“You know that I can’t give you what you want, and yet you haven’t left.” He turns to look at you, brow furrowed and eyes boring into yours. ”Why?”

You scoff, as if the answer sits clear and obvious upon his nose. “Because I _love_ you.” He relaxes when you press a long kiss to the LED on his temple. “And besides, we can always adopt.”

_Play it cool. Don’t reveal anything._

A passerby wheeling a treasure trove of frozen treats stops at your bench and deals you an ice cream cone for a dollar, to which you quickly accept.

“Wanna try a bite?” you offer, noting the forlorn look upon Connor’s face as he stares at your treat.

“I can’t digest food,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“You lick blood for a living. I don’t think trying ice cream will hurt.”

He stares down the melting cone and darts out his tongue to lick at your vanilla-covered hand. Hums after analyzing the flavors as your face burns hot.

Little things that he does, his quirks, make you love him even more. He knows what he’s doing when he flirts with you, when he sneaks touches and feigns ignorance.

“Not bad. I can see why humans enjoy sweets.”

Just another plus of androids being recognized as living species. _Taste buds._

Later that day, you stop by Hank’s house to make your once-a-month family dinner. Sumo greets you with sloppy kisses, excited barks, and an eager nose that sniffs at the grocery bags in hand. Hank greets the two of you with a brief hug before falling into his routine of verbal teasing.

“So, what’d you two lovebirds do today, huh?”

Connor replies, you being too busy trying to wrestle with pots and pans in the bottom cabinet. “We went to the park. Oh! And I tried ice cream for the first time.”

You and Hank share a heartfelt laugh as the two men move into the kitchen to pester you. At least, that’s how it feels. The Lieutenant's kitchen isn’t the most spacious thing in the world.

“Well, congrats, Connor.”

“Speaking of congrats.” You throw a look of excitement over your shoulder before breaking the uncooked spaghetti in half and throwing it into a pot of boiling water. “Somebody just hit their milestone of one year sobriety!”

“Oh, Jesus, it’s not that big’a deal,” Hank grumbles, plopping down into a chair at the kitchen table. “Frankly, I should’ve done it sooner.”

“But you did it,” Connor interjects, voice determined, “so you should be proud of yourself.”

Hank sighs in resignation, knowing he won’t win this argument against Connor.

After dinner is over and the dishes are washed, you pull Hank into the bedroom, your boyfriend looking on in curiosity.

“Alright, what’s up? Why’re you so fidgety?”

You pause in your pacing and sit next to him on the bed.

“I just… I need your advice, support, fuck I don’t know.” A hand runs down your face. “You know those experiments Cyberlife has talked about? Reproduction between humans and androids?”

“Oh, kiddo—”

You shush him, voice lowering into a barely-heard whisper. Connor has a tendency to eavesdrop on conversations he isn’t part of. You can’t blame him, though. If you had super hearing, you would do it, too.

“Connor doesn’t know, and I don’t want to tell him until the process is more finalized. But I signed myself up.”

Hank releases a breath, offers you a studying glance. His silence makes your chest fill with butterflies, makes your heart rate skyrocket.

“Hey, if this is what you want, I think you should go for it. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” You wrap your arms around his waist in a grateful hug, and he returns it with a few too-hard slaps on your back. “Keep me updated, kiddo.”

“Thank you, and I definitely will.”


	2. Cyberlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The briefing.

**July 23, 2040**

-

You sit on your hands for the next few days, awaiting Dr. Sarrow’s call. It finally comes on a lazy Saturday morning, and you quickly vault over a sleeping Connor to grab your phone from the nightstand before he boots up and reaches it himself.

The hardwood floor feels cold beneath your feet as you tiptoe out of the room and answer the call, uncomfortably warm breeze caressing your face when you step onto the front porch.

“Is this Miss…” he says your last name and you brush rogue hairs out of your eyes as the wind picks up.

“Yes, this is she.”

“We’re ready to start a briefing on what the process entails. How does noon sound?”

The smile that curls your lips is uncontrollable, but you’re able to stifle a cry of excitement. “That sounds perfect.”

“Great. Just head to the front desk and sign in, and the receptionist will tell you where to go. See you soon.”

You head back inside, an obvious bounce in your step that Connor immediately notices when he peers around the refrigerator door.

“There you are. What do you want to eat?” he asks, hair tousled from last night’s events after you came home. When you don’t answer, instead rest your chin in your hands and sweep your eyes over his form, a blush paints pink across his cheeks. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just love you.”

He closes the fridge and steps up to the island across from where you’re standing. “Is everything alright? You’ve been acting… strange for the past few days.”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

Connor narrows his eyes, LED turning yellow as he analyzes you. “Your heart rate is up twenty percent more than average. You’re lying.”

You roll your eyes and circle around the island, wrap both arms around his waist. “Listen, it isn’t anything bad, I swear. But I do have some errands to run at noon.”

“How convenient. I’m scheduled for my final implants at noon. Maybe we could—”

_ Fuck! _

“My errands are on the opposite side of town. I don’t think it would work.”

A long, deafening pause.

“As curious as I am, I won’t pry. I trust you.”

Your stomach drops, a guilt gnawing away at your chest. Keeping this secret from him feels wrong, but you know it will be worth it in the end. Hopefully.

For the next two hours, you hatch a plan to figure out how in the hell to outsmart your thinks-faster-than-time android boyfriend. If he was going to Cyberlife, and  _ you _ were going to Cyberlife, you would no doubt run into each other at some point.

Or maybe not.

But if you caved and asked what floor he would be on or asked him to reschedule, then he would immediately know your true destination.

Maybe if you explained the situation to Dr. Sarrow? Goddamn it, this ruined everything.

You urge Connor to leave first, convincing him that starting the process early would give you more time to spend later when he got home. 

Hopefully when you arrive, his “procedure" will already be underway.

As you sit in the back of the taxi, you beam at how lively the outside world seems. A man walking seven dogs. A nanny pushing a baby in a stroller while the parents amble behind them. Graffiti plastered along alley walls and billboards advertising anti-aging serums.

The closer Cyberlife becomes, the more lonely and barren the landscape turns. It’s… depressing, looking upon the mountain-tall building and knowing of its past, not as distant as it seems, despite android freedom laws and all.

You stroll up to the front desk, glancing around for any sign of your boyfriend. The receptionist greets you chipperly and asks for your ID and appointment information, to which you readily give.

“I hate to ask this, but my boyfriend is also here getting some implants installed, and I was wondering if you could tell me what his status is?”

“Do you know his model number?”

Without missing a beat, you answer her. “313-248-317.”

She types on her keyboard for a moment then looks over at you. “He’s currently being worked on. The process should take around half an hour.”

You offer her a grateful smile. “I see. Thank you.”

After a few minutes of heart-pounding eagerness, a petite woman dressed in crisp white approaches you.

“You must be Miss…” she says your last name, and you nod. “Great! Just follow me.”

She leads you through stark white hallways, up seventeen floors in an elevator, and to Dr. Sarrow’s office.

He turns at the sound of the opening door and greets you with a smile. “There you are! Right on time.” He steps around his desk, collecting a folder along the way, and dismisses his assistant with a polite wave. “Now, if you’ll follow me.”

Iridescent lights overhead and winding, identical hallways start a gnawing headache behind your eyes, and you sigh in relief when he ushers you into a lab full of heat lamps and soft lighting.

“This is where most of the process will take place.”

You look around and soak in the warmth of the room, but you dare not move from your spot by the door. “What is this place?”

He clears his throat and opens the folder in hand, adjusting large glasses atop a beaked nose. “Since this area is fairly new, we don’t have an official name for it. But it’s a reproduction lab.”

“Oh. Is this where you grow fetuses our something?”

He chuckles at your ignorant curiosity, voice empty of malice. “No. _ You _ will do that. We simply ready the embryo.”

You finally move away from the door to stand in front of a table, microscopes lined atop the surface. “What will this entail, exactly?”

He holds up a finger and sifts through the papers inside his manila folder. “Parts of Connor’s code are transcribed into readable DNA then arranged into chromosomes. From there, they are inserted into blank sperm, and a component within his reproductive organs is filled with the semen. The process then branches out into two outcomes, depending on the success: you either wait for ovulation and his sperm fertilizes an egg naturally, or we collect your eggs and fertilize them in this lab.”

You blink, utterly overwhelmed by the information flooding your brain. “And then, what, the embryo is put back into my body?”

“Exactly.” He beams at you. “You catch on fairly quickly.” Then his brow furrows. “I have to wonder, however, when you plan on telling him.”

You release a defeated sigh and cross your arms. “He’s been wanting a family for months, and I just — I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

Dr. Sarrow shuffles over to you and rests a hand on your shoulder, offers you a comforting smile. “I will do everything in my power to make sure this works for you.”

You catch your wary reflection in his glasses and force yourself to grin in response.

“You’re a good man, Doctor. One of the few working here.”

“Did you know that I lost my job when androids were first created? I advocated to give them free will, and Cyberlife decided that I was a liability.”

“I’m guessing you saw deviation coming, then?” He says nothing, simply raises his brows until deep lines carve into his forehead. “Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re back.”

“So am I.”

You part ways with promise to tell Connor as soon as possible of the process, and head back to reception to book an appointment.

As fate would have it, Connor meets you on the elevator, the door opening to show your boyfriend leaning against the wall, flannel wrinkled and hair slightly curly.

He turns to look at you and brown eyes widen, your name stuttering from between his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“What did they do to  _ you _ ?” You step into the elevator, blood rushing to your cheeks at how beautifully disheveled he looks.

Connor follows you with curious eyes as you back up against the opposite wall, fingers closing around the metal bar at your waist.

“I got genital implants and reproduction components.” He strides over and rests a hand on your hip, thumb dipping under your shirt and drawing circles over bare skin. “Maybe we could—”

The elevator dings, and you dance away from his touch as the doors open.

“We should go. Let’s talk about it later?”

His face falls, and you swallow down a rock of regret.

“Yeah. Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! (◡‿◡✿)


	3. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you tell him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankly i have no crazy plot for this story. Just a lot of fluff and happiness bc connor deserves it

How do you tell him?

_How do you tell him?_

What if you read all of his signals wrong and he actually doesn’t want to be a father? What if he gets angry? What if the process doesn’t work and all of this was for nothing? What if what if **what if** …

Worry swirls and builds inside your chest for three days after you visit Cyberlife. It makes you irrationally distant and slightly fearful of your boyfriend’s presence. Makes you fumble at work and forget important things (keys, your wallet, milk at the store).

Finally, after three days of your irrational behavior, he corners you in the shower.

The curtain flies open as suds flood down your back, and you move to cover yourself on instinct, only realizing who it is when Connor begins to speak.

“We need to talk.”

You brush knotted hairs away from your face and open burning eyes, blanching at the sight of him fully dressed and soaked to the bone by the spray of water from the showerhead.

“Connor, what the hell are you doing?! Get out!”

The curtain slides closed, leaving you bathed in shadow, only a sliver of light streaking across the ceiling.

“No. I’ve been experiencing... anxiety… since our trip to Cyberlife. You’ve been avoiding me, and I need to know why.”

All rational thought leaves your mind at the hurt look he throws you, brows furrowed and eyes so full of worry your heart almost bursts.

“God, I’m so sorry. I—” You squeeze your eyes shut and bow your head, hair concealing your face and the guilty expression that twists it. “I’m scared of what you’ll say.”

A hand brushes your shoulder, follows the curve of a breast then ribs then waist and finally secures to your hip. But you can’t look at him. _Not yet._

“I love you. And because I love you, I don’t care what—sweetpea, look at me. Please.”

 _Sweetpea._ You smile despite yourself, despite the anxiety gnawing a hole in your throat to keep you from speaking.

So you look up. And he brushes hair from your eyes and cups your face like a broken-apart doll. Delicate and tender.

“You know that I would never say anything to hurt you.”

Through tear-filled eyes, you gaze at him in reverence. This beautiful _human_ , created not to serve, but to love. **You.**

“Cyberlife found a way for us to have children. I already signed the paperwork and went to the briefing and everything. We just… have to make the appointments.”

He says nothing for a long, torturous few moments. Brows raised, mouth slightly open, brown eyes misty and wide.

After waiting for his reaction, in a fit of reassured frustration, you shut the water off and fling the curtain aside, chill of the bathroom forcing you to shiver as you step out onto the frigid tile.

In all the chaos flurrying through your mind, you pause to curse at your forgetfulness and the lack of a towel to stand on. Water pools at your feet, drips down your back, catches on the curve of your top lip.

“When’s the appointment?”

_What?_

A set of socketed feet step beside yours, and you idly wonder how he tolerates that. Especially with the squishy noise they make every time he shifts his weight.

“What?”

“When’s the appointment?” he repeats, tone curious and slightly dazed.

“August 14th.”

Fingertips brush still-dripping hair behind your ear, and Connor leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck.

“Is it too early to start picking out names?”

He…

Oh. _Oh!_

You wiggle your toes against the tile and exhale a laugh at the tiny splashes your movements make. Euphoria washes over you like the droplets of water still struggling to dry on your skin, and now you can _finally_ look up at him.

At the wide grin on his face, the drying mop of curls atop his forehead, the clothes sticking to his lithe frame like a second skin, you instinctively leap forward and kiss him.

“Maybe we should start _practicing_ , if you catch my meaning.”

He slants his lips over yours for a brief moment before pulling away. “I do, actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!!! (◡‿◡✿)


	4. Second Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's still struggling with the whole 'human' thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i usually dont take this long to update but im starting a new job that involves a ton of paperwork and meetings and its taken up a lot of my time !!!! my sincerest apologies friends :(((

“So, you two are really doing this, huh?” Hank dips his fingers into a chocolate milkshake and scoops out the cherry before popping it into his mouth. “Not that I’m not happy for you two but… I dunno.” He turns to you, lips pursed and brow lowered. “You really trust _Cyberlife_ with this?”

You snort, a corner of your lips rising as your eyes regard the android looking out the restaurant window next to you. “Yes, Hank. As if I’m going to be the next Virgin Mary and wake up pregnant tomorrow with a robot baby.”

“Hey! Don’t be a smartass,” Hank grumbles, mouth filled with french fries. “I’m just looking out for you, since nobody _else_ seems to be doing it.”

Even at his partner’s teasing, Connor doesn’t move. Concerned glances are exchanged across the table before you place a hand on your boyfriend’s knee.

“Connor? Are you asleep?”

His head whips around at your touch, eyes blinking and brows raised as if waking from a nap. “I’m sorry, what? I was…” his face twitches for a split second, severe enough that you notice, “researching.”

You exhale a relieved breath, accepting his hand to hold as you turn back to your food. Hank’s gaze flits between both of you, his arm stretched across the table and fingers wrapped around a group of your fries.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he begins, slowly pulls his arm away with your food hidden inside a slightly clenched fist.

“Hank, you’re paying in the first place, so go ahead and eat what you want.” You shove your plate over to his side and turn back to Connor when the older man busies himself with your food.

“What were you researching?”

“Simple parenting tips. An introduction to all the things I’ll learn firsthand, I’m guessing.”

Hank nods in agreement around a bite of burger, and you spend the rest of your outing hearing parenthood horror stories that, albeit hilarious, make you physically cringe.

Though nothing will scare you away at this point. Too much rests on the success of the experiment. Not just Connor’s happiness, or yours, but the familial outlook of millions of androids around the world.

* * *

Four days later, you buy a tub of vanilla ice cream from the store upon Connor’s request, only to watch it melt all over his sleep pants from the spoon he’s scooped it onto.

What a habit your little bonding moment in the park got him into.

Five minutes later, you stand in the bathroom, scrubbing at ice cream stains over the sink while he sits on the edge of the bathtub in his underwear. “I love you _so much,_ but you never stop testing me.”

“I just wanted to enjoy some ice cream, okay?”

At the sight of wide, brown eyes, brow slightly furrowed, you heave a long sigh and turn off the faucet before collapsing onto his lap.

“I hope you know that I’m trying,” he mutters, demeanor too-closely resembling a kicked puppy.

Then it occurs to you that he isn’t referring to the ice cream ordeal. More along the lines of being human, specifically _parenthood preparation._

You rest your lips against his collarbone, a smile upturning the corners at the feeling of his fingertips splaying across your back.

“I know you are. And you’re doing a really great job.” A giggle bubbles up in your throat when he secures both arms around your back and almost crushes you against his chest. “I love you. Have I said that today?”

“Only twenty-three times. Well, twenty-four now,” he teases, presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Make it twenty-five, asshole.”

* * *

**August 13, 2040**

-

Being shaken awake by your boyfriend in the middle of the night ranks high on the most annoying things he’s done in the last week or so.

As you roll back over, he stops you with a soft hand on your arm and a poorly hidden sniffle.

“Woah—hey, are you crying? What’s the matter?”

He accepts the invitation to rest his head on your chest and curls the rest of his body against your side.

“I’m experiencing an emotion that I can’t categorize, and the sensations are scaring me.”

Now it’s time for you to be there for him, to help him through the still-unbearable emotions he experiences from time. Even with twenty-four years under your belt, thoughts and emotions still overwhelm you, so you have no idea what Connor must go through on a daily basis.

“Okay. Let’s talk this out.” In the darkness of the room, red casts along the ceiling, a wall, your skin. From his LED. “Does this emotion have a color when you picture it?”

He’s used to this process of questions by now and holds no reservations when answering.

“Black.”

“Can you pinpoint where you feel this emotion?”

“My chest.”

_Oh._

You exhale a breath of relief. “You’re experiencing panic, Connor. It’s really… potent. But it should pass.” When he doesn’t reply, worry courses through your veins. “What brought this on?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s _not_ stupid.”

He raises onto an elbow and looks down at you, cheeks wet with tears that you quickly wipe away. “I know absolutely nothing about caring for a child. I was created to be a detective. What if I don’t do a good job?” His LED spins as thousands of scenarios skim through his head, brow furrowing in heated concern. “What if people shun them? What if I can’t protect them—”

“Connor, look at me.” He does, albeit a tad guiltily that he got so carried away in his thoughts. Just another negative to being human. Free thinking and all that. “The fact that you’re worrying about being a good parent means that _you’ll be a good parent.”_

“But I’m an android.”

You raise a brow, half-teasing half-curious, and present him with a question that causes his LED to shift yellow: “As if human parents don’t have the same concerns?”

He lowers his head, suddenly very interested in the poly count of your sheets. “Hank has given me many parenting lectures.”

“And you think he didn’t have the same fears?”

He looks up at you, lips drawing into a thin line, before he finally answers. “I know he has.”

You flash him a winning smile and coax him back into your arms, release a comfortable sigh at the steady thrum of his thirium pump against your ribs.

“Tomorrow we meet with Dr. Sarrow, and soon you’ll realize just how insignificant your worries are.”

He runs the tip of his nose down the pulse of your neck, then settles his head on the pillow, in the negative space over your shoulder, artificial puffs of breath fanning over your jaw. Though you can’t seem to mind.

“You’re probably right. Like always.”

An unseen grin graces your lips at his teasing, warmth swirling in your chest at the intimacy and comfort actively lulling you to sleep.

_You just pray that this procedure works._


	5. try for baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything feels so warm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lost my mojo with this story so srry about that ://

The procedure lasts all of three hours. Dr. Sarrow offers Connor an explanation of what today entails, and although you understand only half of what he says, your boyfriend nods along, completely engrossed and able to keep pace.

Your task involves tracking your monthly cycle to project the right days for highest conception probability. Math that Connor welcomes with open and excited arms.

When ovulation begins a few weeks later, a process that is apparently easily identified by a few scans, you wake from a light doze to soft hands gliding along a hip. Lips pressing to the pulse of your neck.

Connor, finally home from work.

“It's finally time.”

Sleep was nice. This is even nicer.

He pulls you back against his chest, cool hands roaming over your stomach and up to your chest, and you shimmy out of an over-sized shirt. He praises and worships every inch of skin unveiled with kisses and cantations and somewhere amongst the chaos you find yourself bare. Beneath his solid form.

In the moment you are no longer human and android. Simply nameless lovers brought together to create  _ life _ . A movement that transcends science and politics and Cyberlife's secret agenda.

He molds into you as if you were created for each other. Releases an oddly warm sigh against the curve of your neck when you wrap both legs around his hips and pull him even closer. Closer,  **deeper** . Delicious pleasure coils in the pit of your stomach.

“Everything feels so  _ warm _ .”

_ That part of the procedure worked _ . A last minute addition to his programming that now allows him human-mimicking pleasure in the form of electrical signals.

You wiggle your hips, a smirk curling your lips at the shudder that drags fingertips down his spine. “Harder. You won't break me.”

The fresh grip that squeezes a thigh makes you wince. “I beg to differ.”

You arch up against him anyway, delighting in the noises that escape his throat. Uninhibited and desperate.

He follows your instructions, swallowing the moans you create when soft lips slot over yours, curious and insistent and the first swipe of his tongue leaves you  _ shivering _ .

His body sings under your fingertips, electricity sparking and warmth burning. Burning… heat… 

“Connor, hey. You okay?”

He releases a scorching breath that leaves your shoulder red and sore. “My body is attempting to overheat.”

You push him away in an attempt to lessen the overwhelm coursing through his systems. He sits back on his haunches, smoke billowing from his lips with each sigh.

“Maybe we should try this later, Con.”

* * *

After two hours of his inability to cool overheating systems, you stick him in a cold bath and sit on the edge of the tub after listening to his insistence from the opposite end of the house.

“You should join me.”

The laugh that escapes your throat makes him frown. You reach over and comb a hand through his hair, press a kiss to his still-hot forehead. “Bad idea, babe. I know exactly what you're planning.”

Dark eyes sparkle under iridescent lights, innocent and wide. A hand curls around your wrist. “What are you talking about?”

Distrusting his intentions, you attempt to stand, only for his arm to wrap around your waist and tug you into the water. An immediate shiver tickles at your spine, and Connor pulls you to his chest, rests his lips against the curve of your shoulder.

You relax under his touch, fingers drawing circles over the back of his hand.

Although you want to be angry at him, you can't. Every time his skin brushes against yours, you lose all ability to think. Frustrating, yes. For someone to have that much control over you proves… terrifying. But you love him. Are  **in love** with him. So fuck it.

“You haven't said anything. Are you angry at me?”

You shake your head, hands moving to now-soaked sleep shorts. With each piece of clothing you shed, the floor becomes even more wet. 

“Promise me you won't almost die this time.”

He nips at your pulse, fingers slipping between your legs. 

“I promise.”

* * *

For months, you try and fail to conceive. It exhausts you. Brings you to tears on most days because ultimately, you've failed Connor.

The main thing you feared when you accepted this proposition.

It pushes you away from him. Feeds you lies of inadequacy and frustration. 

Each evening when he comes home from work, he brings you gifts of affection. Flowers, stuffed animals, candy. Offers you kisses and hugs and bubble baths and wine and take-out.

But even with the band-aid Connor provides, nothing can heal the heartache that pains your chest. The hole that you never knew was there.

You just want a family. 

_ You aren’t a failure, _ he says.

_ I love you, _ he says.

_ We’ll get through this, _ he says.

All things that you know are true but can’t seem to believe.

Yet you try as much as he is. You carry on. Go to work and come home and cook dinner and sleep. Do the same thing over, over, over again. The monotony sustains you when everything else seems to fall apart.

He rallies by your side on the days you can’t get out of bed. You share your anxieties and melancholy with each other in an attempt to reconcile the hope you lost.

* * *

It happens unexpectedly. After you already threw away the last piece of optimism like a crumpled piece of paper in the bottom of your purse.

You wake up each morning for a week to violent nausea that ends in sickness. But the thought never crosses your mind. Until the cravings begin. Connor takes you out to lunch, Hank following along, idly questioning your progress. You discuss recent symptoms, aiming a confused glare his way at the grin that curls his lips.

“What?”

“You sound like my wife when she first got pregnant.” He takes a sip of his soda. “Maybe you should take a test. Just to be sure, of course.”


End file.
